Strike Out
by Kiba Wolf
Summary: Toshiro Hitsugaya is on his way to becoming a baseball legend, but behind the scenes isn't such a pretty prospect. His personal life is in turmoil, and he finds himself asking if he's going to continue to strike out or if the perfect pitch is on its way.
1. Strike Out

_**Strike Out**_

"Now up to bat, number four, Toshiro Hitsugaya!" The announcer proclaimed in a booming voice that slowly faded out as cheers erupted from the crowd.

The score was 3-2, Karakura Kamikazes. The Seireitei Samurai were losing and it was the bottom of the ninth, with one on and two outs. To say pressure was on Toshiro to make this happen was the biggest understatement of the day. The game had started at noon and it was now approaching three in the afternoon; everyone was hot, sweaty, and ready to head home. Fans loitered in the aisles, debating whether or not staying a few extra minutes would be worth their time. Sports buffs stayed loyal, though, and waited with bated breath for the final pitches of the game.

The catcher squatted down as Hitsugaya took his stance, flashing signals to the pitcher who nodded in response. Toshiro took a slow practice swing, to check his position, and waited for the pitch to be delivered by Ichimaru, star pitcher of Karakura. The catcher taunted Toshiro quietly, "Hey, you're pretty short, aren't'cha? You're practically eye-level with me!" Hitsugaya merely grunted in response and continued to wait patiently. Gin started his wind up and Toshiro tensed, only to see the pitcher spin around and throw to second — a check on the runner.

Booing exploded from the crowd, along with a few hisses and the occasional, "Get on with it!" Hitsugaya felt his eye twitch. _No big deal_, he reminded himself calmly, _just keep watching, he won't check again for a while._ Sadly though, Toshiro was wrong as Gin continued to check the runner again and again and —.

"That's enough, Gin!" he finally exclaimed, throwing his bat down and standing up straight.

"Hey! Get back here or I'm kicking you out of the game, Kid!" the umpire warned in alarm as Toshiro marched out to the pitching mound. Gin cocked his head to the side in condescending amusement. Without missing a beat, Hitsugaya walked up to him, pulled back his arm, and introduced his fist to Ichimaru's face, who promptly crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

Silence filled the stadium for only a moment before the field and stands erupted into chaos. The infielders rushed Toshiro while the runner on second ran in to help him, and the Samurai on the bench quickly jumped onto the field in order to join the brawl. Black and white Samurai uniforms mixed with the red and white of the Kamikazes as fists flew like eagles diving on their prey. The umpires rushed in to calm things down, but with well over twenty people throwing punches every which way, they were unable to quell the fight much.

Meanwhile, in the stands, women were screaming as men started picking fights with strangers in opposing team colors. Long story short, it was a bad day to have a seat in the midst of enemy team fans. Security was spread thin and sure enough fans started leaking onto the field to join in the ballplayer's fight. In the midst of all of this, quite literally the heart of the fight, Toshiro was repeatedly pounding his fists against Ichimaru's face who was withering in pain under him.

"Next time you're pitching to me —," he paused to catch his breath and Gin glanced up at his furious face, "—why not try actually pitching to me?" He finished with a shout as he continued to tenderize Gin's face.

The umpires had, by this time, called the cops who were now threatening the crowd, telling them to either clear out or they'd be spending the night in a nice little cell. The men in uniform hurriedly made their way to the field where they started pulling players apart, one by one, until they got to the center of the fight. The now hushed and separated teams stood on opposing sides of the infield, watching with horror as Toshiro continued to strike Gin, who now lay unconscious.

By now the crowd of rowdy fans had been dispersed and the ballpark crew was cleaning up the messes in the stands, causing the stadium to fall eerily quiet with only the sound of Toshiro's rhythmic beating to interrupt it.

_Thwack. Thwack. Crunch. Thwack._

Several of the ballplayers with weaker constitutions were forced to look away or cover their ears. Several cops stepped forward and pulled Hitsugaya off Ichimaru in silence.

Hitsugaya was still swinging when they forced him into the cruiser.

* * *

><p>"Someone's here to visit you," A sleepy-eyed officer mumbled as he opened the door.<p>

"Kisuke?" Toshiro questioned, squinting in the sudden light that had flooded the cramped jail cell.

"My, My," said man drawled. "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess this time, hm?"

"I'm sorry, Coach." Toshiro bowed his head in repentance. Looking up he added, "It won't happen again!"

"Oh I know it won't," Urahara replied with a frown, peeking out from beneath his hat. "As it stands right now, you'll be lucky if they let you in the stadium again—and you can forget playing."

Toshiro leapt up in alarm, causing the guard to perk up as well. "What? They can't do that! The game's all I have; without baseball what am I?" Toshiro continued to argue this point and shout until he neared hysteria, at which point Kisuke chose to intervene.

"All right, calm down!" he shouted impatiently over Hitsugaya's panicked voice. The young ballplayer halted his ranting immediately. "Now look, I'm only telling you what's probably going to happen. No one knows for sure yet, and as much as you'll hate to hear it, Gin Ichimaru will probably be a big factor in the whole mess."

"Gin." Toshiro said his name like a curse, and spat off to the side as if just saying the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "So whether or not I play again is up to a man who's probably going to need extensive surgery after what I did. Really, Kisuke, if he can't play do you think he'll let me play?" He bowed his head in thought, silver hair covering his eyes from view.

"Look, Kid, you made a mistake and everyone knows that. I mean you really are much too loved by your fans. They'll throw a tantrum if you never played again," Kisuke consoled in a thoughtful tone. "Anyways, I'm going to see if there's a way to set up a public meeting with Gin. Maybe if you go out apologize, drop a few kind words, and one quick hug then Ichimaru will forgive you enough to let you play. After all, the judges and jury can be paid off; they aren't the problem here."

"All right," Toshiro agreed quietly, sitting down on the bunk at the back of the cell. He was no hotheaded, temper-flinging jerk; he was simply a good ballplayer that made a small mistake. The day was scorching-hot out, and everyone was ready to go home. Then Gin had to go and try to extend the game for another half-hour. There was no excuse for his action, but nearly half his team would've done the same thing in his position. It seemed bad-tempered folk always made it to the Seireitei Samurai.

Kisuke Urahara, coach of this rambunctious team, took one last look at his go-to man before exiting the room, ready to pull an all-nighter if it meant getting his ballplayer out of the slammer. Toshiro took no notice of his leave; rather he simply continued to think about the alternate outcomes of the day had one of the others been in his place.

He couldn't help but smirk mischievously as he thought about their center fielder, Zaraki Kenpachi, and what he would've done to Gin. If the folks at home thought he hit hard…

Toshiro's smirk quickly faded though. It wasn't right to sit here and think about these kinds of things. Especially not when he was already in trouble as it was.

The young star player leaned back on his lumpy bunk and stared at the prison roof, wondering how long it would take for all of this to blow over, if the lack of practice would affect his playing at all, and somewhat randomly, if there would ever be anything in his life to make it worth living aside from a sport.

* * *

><p>Only a week after Kisuke's visit was the meeting between Toshiro and Gin arranged, and now mere minutes from taking place. According to Kisuke's assistant coach, Jushiro Ukitake, Gin had generously agreed to the terms, which were to meet with Toshiro and pardon his aggressive manners at the game. Although Toshiro had managed to express proper excitement towards the news at the time, he remained suspicious of ulterior motives. Ichimaru was not known for his benevolence.<p>

Disregarding these thoughts for the time being, Toshiro stepped into the conference room and stepped up on the stage, in handcuffs at the moment. Already seated to the right of the podium was Gin Ichimaru; Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, the head coach of Gin's team better known as simply Yamamoto; and Sosuke Aizen, another player on the Karakura Kamikazes and "good friend" of Ichimaru.

To the left sat Toshiro's relief crew, Kisuke Urahara, Jushiro Ukitake, and Isshin Kurosaki, the pitching coach of his team frequently seen at third base, directing runners. They each gave him a small smile or thumbs up, before returning to their grim façade. Although the public would never know it, the entire deal was written up and signed off on earlier today. This was all for publicity's sake.

A man dressed in an expensive looking suit walked up to the podium and introduce the members of the baseball league present, and continued to address the press for several minutes—warming them up, as a few in the business would say.

Hitsugaya zoned out for several minutes; staring unseeingly into the crowd as he waited for the babbling official to finish his spiel. Isshin nudged him, breaking his trance.

"You're up to bat." The bullpen manager smirked at his own little joke. Toshiro smiled appreciatively before standing and making his way to the oak stand. Mounting the stand he took a deep breath, put on his most serious face, and made eye contact with the crowd.

"Friday's game is not something any of us want to think about, especially not me. I cannot begin to express how deeply, truly sorry I am for my actions. Not only was what I did wrong, but I also disgraced the entire league by acting out. I recall playing Little League games, and the first thing out of the coach's mouth was always "sportsmanship". If we lost a game, it was about being a good sport. If we won, it was about being a good sport. I think that's something we, as professionals, should never forget."

Hitsugaya's speech droned on for several minutes before he took questions from the press. A serious-looking woman in the front row nabbed the first question.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya, you are considered by many to be one of the most influential players of our time. Those same Little Leaguers you mentioned in your speech likely witnessed your actions on the field Friday—how do you plan on handling the younger fans?"

Toshiro shifted nervously. Not one of the questions he expected to come his way. "Well, I can assure you I won't let my actions go without warning to the youngsters." There, that should suffice. "Next question?"

The same woman jumped up—another wanna-be trying to grab the spotlight—and the rest of the crowd seemed content with this. "Mr. Hitsugaya, with all due respect sir, that doesn't answer the question. Do you plan on talking directly with the children—interacting with them—at any point in the near future?"

Hitsugaya glanced towards his coach, hoping for some help. Unfortunately Kisuke looked as uncertain as he did at the moment.

"Mr. Hitsugaya?" The crowd seemed to lean forward in their seats all at once—waiting for the answer.

"I—Yes!" Everyone in the room looked puzzled and Toshiro quickly elaborated. "I mean, yes, I'll be contacting a local school to talk with the students there. Particularly a school highly involved in sports."

The presses' eyes lit up as the next great story struck them—Hitsugaya, Apologizes and Recommits!

_Great. _If he didn't go through with it now the entire press would make him look bad. Resisting the urge to rub his temples Hitsugaya smiles up at the crowd again. Some applauding slips out at his infamous smile. Figuring it was time for the main event, before Toshiro worked this to his advantage any more, Coach Yamamoto stood up.

Gin followed suit and walked towards the podium, smiling in a memorable fashion. Hitsugaya turned his attention from the press and to Gin. Offering his hand, he bowed his head in repentance. Gin clasped his outstretched hand, shook it once, and both turned to face the crowd and smile for the cameras. This time the crowd couldn't resist bursting into a roaring approval.

Then it was over.

The crowd cleared out, the Karakura Kamikaze teammates took off, and his supporters for the evening made tracks, leaving Toshiro with nothing but his own thoughts. Sure that everyone had cleared out, he plopped down on the floor and groaned loudly. Community service. He couldn't believe it. Something shifted in the back of his mind.

Hadn't he seen the woman who asked that question before somewhere?

She looked so familiar…

Then it dawned on him. Mayuri or someone on Gin's team had connections in the press, and she was on the Karakura Kamikazes' payroll. Asking for community service looked like an accident, but it was a set up.

"Damn it!"


	2. School Slide

_**School Slide**_

"I can't believe I fell for this," Toshiro muttered, combing back his hair, checking his uniform in the mirror.

Kisuke had set up a trip to a local elementary school after the press conference, much to his disappointment. Kisuke then had to explain that people would be watching, and if he didn't follow through then even more smut would smear his "good name." Of course, Toshiro knew all of this, he just hated to own up to his mistake.

The whole day had been planned out in advance though: the ballplayer would talk to an auditorium full of children, discussing the need for good sportsmanship and the importance of controlling your anger. Then, after the big group dispersed, Toshiro would go to a smaller classroom filled with the school's baseball team. There he would have the freedom to relax and talk purely baseball for a while.

The last bell would ring, and Toshiro would undoubtedly be as joyous as the children upon hearing it. A long sigh passed by his lips, and the phone rang, causing his heart to leap out of his chest.

"Hello?"

"Hey man," came the gruff voice on the other end of the line. "You want some back-up for today?"

Toshiro took a seat on his overly plush couch and shook his head, full well knowing the man on the other end couldn't see him. "No thanks Ichigo, although I am surprised that _you _would be the one to call and offer," Hitsugaya quipped. Ichigo wasn't that bad, but he could be a bit disrespectful. They usually only spoke when necessary, when it was all said and done.

"Let's just say I drew the short straw," the right fielder answered, sounding decidedly embarrassed despite his naturally tough tone. "So why are you going this alone? We all know that it was just a matter of bad luck that it happened to you."

Toshiro recalled his thoughts during his brief stay in the slammer. Anyone else in the same position would've had the same reaction. So why did it have to be the star player of a struggling team? Struggling may have been a bit much, but they were falling behind and the slope seemed endless at this point. Especially at this point.

"Yeah, but this will be the end of it," he answered after a moment. "I'll just go, do this, and we can focus on beating those damn Kamikazes next time."

"Actually Toshiro—," Ichigo started hesitantly, but was cut off by someone yelling in the background. After a few minutes of shouting, he continued, "The girlfriend's pissed, so I gotta go, but remember, it's only a few games."

Only a few games? What in the world was he talking about?

"Kurosaki what are you—?" Toshiro started to demand, but was cut short by Ichigo's quick apology.

"Sorry, she's really pissed. I'll talk to you late. And good luck!" _Click_. And the line went dead. Toshiro checked his watch. He still had a little while before his ride showed up, but he didn't want to hear about this from Kisuke if it was actually something to worry about. If Kisuke hadn't told him, it was for a reason.

He punched a few numbers into the phone and listened to it ring three times before someone picked up.

"Shiba residence," the female voice answered.

"Is Kaien there?" he asked patiently. He knew it was best to avoid smarting off to a Shiba.

"Oh, Toshiro?" the voice asked in recognition. "I didn't realize it was you. Hold on, I'll go get him."

"Thank you," Hitsugaya responded.

"No problem, and sorry about the suspension."

Before he could ask what she was talking about, he could hear the sound of her calling down Kaien. A moment later he picked up, cheerily greeting him, "Hey Hitsugaya! How you doing buddy?"

"Hello Kaien," Toshiro answered stiffly. "I've been hearing something about a suspension, do you know what that's about?"

"Oh man, Kisuke didn't tell you?" Kaien asked, evidently worried about being the one to answer Hitsugaya's question.

"No, he hasn't talked to me since I saw him at the press conference," Toshiro answered, growing more panicked by the minute.

"I'm sorry man," Kaien sighed. "You were suspended for the next series, but it's only four games. You're lucky you got away with that."

"Anything else?" Toshiro asked warily.

"Since you mentioned it, yeah," the voice on the other end seemed troubled. "You're not allowed to be anywhere near the stadium—game day or otherwise—for the duration of the suspension."

"So I can't even watch my own team?" Toshiro barked angrily.

"Hey calm down," he rebuked. "It's not my fault, and you can still watch us. It'll just have to be on a TV."

"Shit," Toshiro whispered, slamming his fist on the cushion next to him, which merely absorbed the blow. "I can't believe they actually suspended _me_."

A moment of silence passed, Kaien hesitating. "Look, you know I think you're a great player right?"

"Yeah?"

"But you got to lose the attitude man," the elder man whispered. "It's gotten you into trouble with this, but you know this won't be the last if you keep treating the public like a disease or like you own the world."

Toshiro felt an odd sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He trusted Kaien to be honest, sometimes brutally so, but he hadn't expected his _friend_ to think so little of him. "Yeah. I'll talk to you later, my ride's here," he lied, hanging up the phone without waiting for a response.

A moment later, though, a car horn did sound from outside, leaving Toshiro no time to consider Kaien's words further. He just had to focus on getting through today, and then he could worry about this suspension crap.

"Good morning my boy!" Isshin Kurosaki called merrily from the driver's seat as Toshiro climbed into the nice yet discreet car.

"Good morning Mr. Kurosaki," the ballplayer answered on more of a reflex than anything else. "Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Isshin laughed, flooring the pedal and causing Toshiro to nearly fly through the leather seat. The man's driving scared Toshiro, why did Kisuke send him of all people? Then it dawned on him: it was a warning. Behave.

_Hmph._

The drive to the school was uneventful, aside from almost dying several times due to Isshin's bad driving. The little building comprised one of the smaller schools Toshiro had ever seen.

According to his debriefing the school held less than a hundred children, but the school took their academics and sports seriously. It was only an elementary school, so why they were worried about all that at this age was almost beyond Hitsugaya.

Although, if he were being honest, their motto said it all: "Basics first, all else follows."

It wasn't a prestigious school, per se, more like a school that knew what it was, what it had to work with, and made the absolute best out of all things. A few famous ballplayers once called this school's playground their playing field. That would explain why it stayed well funded _and _free.

"Okay, just walk in the doors there and the nice office ladies will get you set up!" Isshin crowed happily.

"You're just going to leave me here?" Toshiro yelped in surprise.

"Sure!" Isshin answered happily. "Don't worry, no one knows you're here, and the secretaries are very, _very_ good."

_Holy crap, it was creepy the way he said that._

"Fine."

"Good luck!" Isshin called, waving a tissue. "Be a good boy in school little Toshiro!" Toshiro felt a vein pop in his head in response. He could almost swear the man was constantly on drugs. No one was naturally that happy. His son certainly hadn't adapted that carefree demeanor.

He shook his head, ignoring the insane coach and looking towards the doors that loomed before him.

_Get a hold of yourself_, he chided mentally. _It's just a school. An elementary school!_

Still, he was nervous upon walking into the office, despite his mental reassurances. When he entered, the secretaries all looked up at him. Not to say there were many—only three, two up front and one in an office in the back.

"Oh you must be that baseball player," the younger one of the two up front realized. "Hold on just a moment." She rolled back in her chair, to the entrance of the office and whispered something to the lady in there. A moment later the woman walked out of her office and took a good look of Toshiro before saying anything.

"Oh, my Toshiro!" she giggled. "You've grown a bit since I last saw you?"

The now-confused ballplayer stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

She giggled again. "You play with my son every day and don't know me?"

Then it dawned on him. "Oh! Mrs. Kurosaki!"

"Much better," she responded, smiling merrily at him. "Now allow me to escort you to the gymnasium." Toshiro nodded, resisting the urge to smack his forehead. So that's why Isshin had talked about the secretaries like that. Not to mention why he felt Toshiro would be fine in this school, after all this was the school where Ichigo was brought up.

Mrs. Kurosaki led him to the gym, as promised. Even Toshiro had to admit that it was impressive, the size and the structure both. Definitely a sports-loving school, as if the various sports posters in the hallway hadn't been any indication.

The place was probably larger than the rest of the school combined, and at the very least accounted for what size the school did have. The auditorium—though it almost felt more correct to call it a stadium—wasn't filled to capacity, as there really weren't that many kids in the school, but combined with the staff it made for a sizeable crowd.

Toshiro marched up to the podium that had been hooked up especially for him, trying to keep in mind that this wasn't a hard-nosed group of press conference dogs, but rather a bunch of young children and smiling, soft teachers. Deep breath, it was go time.

"Good afternoon," he greeted with the best smile and most cautious tone he could manage.

All of the children called out a salutation and many of them bounced up and down happily. How easy it was to win over a crowd of children. He almost felt like he deserved the suspension—this way out alone would seem like cheating. And although he was many things, he was not a cheater.

"How many of you like baseball?" he asked, a real grin replacing his fake smile quickly and surely.

A roar of approval met his question, and suddenly he felt a lot more comfortable at the stand. After this reassurance he started talking naturally to the children, answers and questions flowing smoothly. Before he knew it, his time to speak had ended, and the children were escorted out. He almost wished he had another hour with them all, feeling oddly disappointed to see them go.

Then he recalled he'd be talking to the school's baseball team, and his smile returned. Mrs. Kurosaki returned to find him like that, and smiled quietly to herself. "Right this way Toshiro."

He followed her gladly to the classroom, where the children had already been assembled. She poked her head inside the classroom to make sure the teacher inside was ready for him, and then she gestured for him to enter.

He walked in, smiling still, and the students' eyes all watched him carefully, faces unsmiling for now. Toshiro sat down in the chair designated for him, and grinned at the little miniature ballplayers, who slowly started grinning back. He leaned back in his chair, ready to address them, when the teacher in the back caught his eye and he felt his jaw drop.

"You can begin whenever you'd like," she said, thinking he was waiting for a go-ahead signal. He stared stupidly at her for another long minute before he finally broke out of his trance.

"Right, so, uh any questions?" he asked, still glancing at the teacher in the back of the room every few minutes.

"My dad says you kicked that other guy's ass!" one little boy chirped happily. Toshiro's jaw dropped, partially at the language and partially at the comment itself. Maybe he was confused on the meaning of the word, but that didn't sound like disproval.

"Yeah my dad says you're awesome!" another boy piped up. The teacher looked worriedly at the students, but didn't intervene. She was waiting for Toshiro to say something.

"Look boys, I'm glad your dads approve of me," he started, elicting a frown from the teacher and smiles from the kids. "But hurting other people doesn't make me cool or great or anything."

The kids looked at him confused.

"Hurting people is bad," he explained. "We play baseball because we love it, not because we want to be angry at other people." Something changed in his voice as he plowed on. "Baseball is something we can love that will never turn its back on us or hurt us. It's something that creates communities and families. It's not something that should hurt anyone ever."

He noticed the teacher looking at him, taken aback by this small speech. The students, meanwhile, were grinning at him once more.

"Yeah, baseball's awesome!" one cheered. The others started agreeing.

"True, true," Toshiro responded, nodding. "Speaking of baseball, let's talk about it for a while, hu?"

The kids readily agreed and the remainder of the school day passed quickly as they talked the minutes away, discussing players and stats and strategies and techniques. By time the last bell rang, the boys all had autographed baseballs, and they rushed towards the buses with Toshiro barely getting a good-bye off.

He leaned back in his chair, smiling happily. This day turned out to be less torturous and frustrating than he had expected. He actually felt almost relaxed. Standing up and stretching, he recalled the teacher that had sat in on his miniature press conference and looked up to see her walking over to him. His heart beat unevenly at her approach.

"I never expected a baseball player to be so good with kids," she said in way of greeting. "You did very good today, Mr. Hitsugaya."

"Uhm, thanks," he answered. Rubbing the back of his neck he decided to go for the gold, since he'd already come this far. "Maybe I can do it again sometime. I really enjoyed it."

"There are no cameras here," she responded, still smiling gently.

"Excuse me?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"You don't have to pretend that you enjoyed it," she explained. "I won't tell anyone."

"Oh, no you don't understand," he quickly corrected, waving his hands in front of him. "I actually _did _enjoy it. Honestly I didn't think I would, but I did."

She looked mildly surprised at this statement, but after a moment nodded happily. "You'll have to come back some time then."

"Of course," he answered easily, preparing himself for what was coming next. "Maybe if you could give me your number, then I could call up and arrange it."

The teacher blushed, but answered, keeping her smile in place, "Is it the school you want to contact or me, Mr. Hitsugaya?"

"You, of course," he responded easily, a soft smile on his lips. "What do you say?" He walked over to the door, turning and looking back at her, waiting for her response. She looked away from him, a peculiar emotion in her eyes, some kind of doubt, before nodding firmly.

"Very well then," she answered, scribbling on a piece of paper before handing it over to the ballplayer, but before she released her grip on the paper she said, "By the way, my name is Momo Hinamori."

"Miss Hinamori," Toshiro whispered, fingers clenched around the piece of paper. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Hitsugaya," she answered, watching him walk out the door and back into the sunlight of a brilliant day.


End file.
